Lost Brothers
by Lucky's Girl
Summary: James Howlett and Victor Creed. Two lost Brothers. Lost in the years they have lived and the memories long since forgotten. What are the reprocusions of that day on Three Mile Island? What happened after Sabertooth fell off Lady Liberty? Not Slash. Thanks for Reading!
1. Lost Beginning

Author's Note- This story! It started in 2009 after I watched the Wolverine Origins movie. After only two chapters posted, the future chapters I'd written were lost on an old computer and I was stubborn to not continue without them and didn't believe I could re-create them properly.

So four years later, I got them back and am re-writing and editing all the chapters and will be posting them up here. The end of the story isn't written or set in stone yet, though, so there is still plenty of room for opinions. So thank you for everyone still reading or sticking with it!

It's set sometime after X-Men:The Last Stand, and Origins plot is **definitely** included in it.

Disclaimer- If I owned X-men the third movie wouldn't exist. There will be a lot of vulgar language and bloody fighting in this story. It's Wolverine and Sabertooth, what can you expect? Nothing past that though.

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**Prologue-**

Snarls and angry noises echoed through the forest. Any local of the area would tell you that it was an animal fight. Bears maybe, perhaps a few wild dogs ran into each other, something of the sort. Sounded nasty whatever it was. They didn't really bother to look further.

Then again, these locals aren't entirely incorrect. For there were two animals fighting deep within the forests perimeters.

These animals are not what the travelers fear in their minds, or the locals expect. It is not bears, or dogs, or any other sort of natural animal. These animals belong to a different kind of kingdom, that of man. More specifically, the newest branch of humanity; mutants.

It is two mutants, two brothers, two warriors, and two animals that clash like thunder in the deepest folds of the forest. Away from the recesses of civil life and society, they clash. Like the animals within them, their anger is released with snarls, roars, and growls, the release of sixteen claws, two sets of different claws with the same purpose.

To fight, releasing the animal within out of pure, mindless rage.

This fight, the fights to come, the fights long forgotten in unmentionable years, will bring out what isn't truly so mindless of these animals. Deep withheld pain that they buried, the truths they hid, the memories they concealed and ignored.

It is the fight to reveal two lost brothers to one another and to find out what really lurks at the darkest corners of the soul. Is it a mindless animal, or is it more?


	2. Lost Fighting

Author's note- Thanks for Reading!

**Chapter 1**

He felt searing pain as the nerves in his arm were ripped apart by three gleaming knives. In response; just like every other time, he felt his own claws return the favor by tearing deep into his opponents arm. The blood spurted everywhere, his mind nearly drowning in the scent, as his claws where yanked out and he flew into a nearby tree.

Lunging up quickly, he moved around him and jumped forward to get a hold on Jimmy's shoulder. Heavier or not, he could still lift him and fling him into the same tree he'd just been thrown into himself.

He paused the smell of rain coming washing away the red in his vision as the blood seemed to become less noticeable. Now, he carefully watched Jimmy getting up from the tree, grunting. His wild, yellow eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched reflexively. It was always like this, emotionless.

When they used to fight, there had been reason behind it; mostly traitorous anger, but still there was a reason they both tore each other into shreds. Almost as if willing to see who could kill the other first, what could actually fall them. Now, though, it was just some twisted grudge, embedded into their instincts, past memories. It had seemed to be the only thing that survived between the two over the centuries.

How fitting of animals.

He suddenly moved, and Victor lunged to the side as he felt Jimmy's claws streak angrily through his flank. He landed on his hands, letting out a roar in anger. He didn't bother to check how deep the cuts were. He didn't bother to care, he always healed. Always, and he'd always get back up to return the hit. Because he was stronger, he was better at this.

Which meant he shouldn't be suddenly getting slower. Jimmy's hit shouldn't have made a hit. Victor was getting slower and it aggravated him to no end. He could only assume it was because of his lack of any emotion asides from boredom and tinted anger. He couldn't even get really angry, he couldn't rage and force his instincts to do his dirty work for him. Just that painful twitch that seemed to be what ruled his human emotions. Anger, but a dulled sort. Not the usual animalistic rage... it was useless, and it made him weak.

He couldn't shake it today, he kept trying. That only further annoyed him. Normally all he had to do was _think_ of this traitorous little runt thinking how he was now, all justified and cuddly with the X-clowns, and it was enough to pull him into a killing spree. Wouldn't work right now, then again Victor had picked today of all days to pick a fight with Jimmy.

He wouldn't think on why, he didn't want to. It should be pointless, it _was_ pointless, he thought with a snarl as he pounced off the ground, launching himself at his brother. His claws sunk satisfyingly into his chest and arm, tearing at the meat there. Victor wasn't even sure if your birthday counted if you didn't remember it. June fifth was just another, annoying, sticky day to him, but Victor remembered. He was the only one who did. He snarled away from the sting of Jimmy's claws as they sliced his leg. He shoved James in the dirt as his ten claws dug into his back in return.

He was getting tired of it already and a good scrap wasn't something he bored of. But, it didn't feel like a fight. It was, but... he wasn't into it. Instead he was left looking over his brothers face, searching for the inevitable as James got up off the ground. Searching for any hint of pain or even reasonable anger. He looked every time and every time he failed to see his Jimmy's wary look.

The look of worry that he was on the wrong side, or doing something wrong. Looking to Victor for help and guidance. The look he gave him that first winter when his eyes asked the question neither would speak. Would they survive? It was a look that made him pull through whatever was happening. He had done it because James had needed him to, because he was older and stronger, he had owed it to him.

That was no longer there. Jimmy's eyes stayed blank.

There was no anger, heated through the pain of betrayal. Their back and forth game was no longer there. James didn't remember walking away, _abandoning_ Victor. Didn't remember Victor '_killing_' her. So much for 'love'. All those years. None of it was there. The back and forth until the real reason was lost in newer reasons to hate one another. Their hate never seemed to stop, only build up.

At least there had been the hate. Now there was nothing. The final betrayal. He only saw the blank, angry stare of an enemy whose hate was unfounded. It angered him, after all he'd done for this runt, all he'd put up with and gone through, for him to just forget Victor!

"What do you want Creed?" His brother snarled at him. Anger laced through him, that dull useless anger, and his fingers twitched for him to stop the talking. But he shrugged in response instead, a taunting smirk curving up his face, determined to make the runt suffer. If he didn't remember, he would pay for it. only serving to make James angrier.

"What's so funny?" James snarled again, demanding an answer. He didn't _get_ to have answers.

_He_ did this. It was his fault, Victor had wanted things to be better. James was the one that turned away, forced Victor to do things to show him he was being weak. But he had to over think everything, had to try to deny what they were, what they had been for near on two hundred years.

It seemed as if things were so simple back before Stryker and Team X. They had gone where they wanted, fought on whichever side they fancied that year, and stayed close. They were all each other had, they watched everyone die around them and they took it all in strides. They stuck together no matter what. Like they had promised. There was nobody else on the planet like them. No one with claws, fangs and animals clawing for control at their conscious.

Two of a kind. Someone had told them that at some point, though he couldn't remember who, they didn't matter.

Now he looked at them and Jimmy didn't remember shit. He didn't even remember his own _god damned _name. It was his fault he didn't know though, and if Victor had to deal with it, so would the runt. Victor would make sure of it.

"Nothin' at all," He said in a mock-casual voice, holding back the urge to add his name at the end. He wasn't Jimmy anymore, he had lost Jimmy. Lost him to whatever the hell happened to him after that day on the platform with Wade.

"I mean it, Creed."

"Now I'm real 'fraid," He chuckled mirthlessly at him, tauntingly as they circled one another.

Victor wondered how things changed so quickly. Even in hate, they had been brothers, but now centuries of brotherhood were gone. It was just gone, no recognition, no memories, it had all been for fucking nothing. Why he was even thinking about it? It was the day, he told himself, because he didn't like the feeling of being tired of getting torn up for no reason. They were animals, it was what they did. But... even animals had reasons, as deliciously simple as they were.

They'd been tearing into each other quite frequently the past four years. After Jimmy realized how _stupid_ he was for thinking he'd killed Victor. Did he really forget enough to think that throwing him off a statue and into the ocean would kill Victor Creed? The fearsome Sabertooth?

He'd had worse things happen to him. Much. But the satisfaction of Jimmy's face had been near priceless when Victor blind sighted him and bunch of his little X-men. Fighting the good fight... but Victor knew what it was, why Jimmy was _really_ there. He might not even know, he could say it was to do good things, to help them, but Victor knew. He was hiding again. Just like he always did, trying to hide what he was through hero antics. Finding a battle with a 'worthy' cause when any battle would do so long as he got one.

With that thought... he stopped. Victor stood from his crouch and James edged back slightly, eyeing him quickly for the sudden break in their dance. This wasn't right though... and Victor wanted no part in letting him hide, memory or no. This was useless and he was wasting his time.

He backed slowly into the tree line, half wondering if James wouldn't stop him. He didn't and Victor felt his age for a moment. His brother disappeared from sight and after another few feet, he turned and crouched lower into a run. He was done playing a useless game of cat and mouse with James, he could go to hell for all it mattered... why should Victor bother himself with him if he continued to choose to be weak. Years of that choice... and look where it got him. With nothing, just like Victor told him.

Victor was far off into the New York wilderness when he slowed his pace, all feelings of battle swept away, leaving him with an unwelcome tightness.

"Happy Birthday Jimmy," He said grudgingly, the tinted pain clear in his voice, though he chose to ignore it. Damn fool couldn't even remember his own god damned birthday...


	3. Lost Dreaming

_Author's Note- This story has been edited! So the first two chapters are redone and there is now a Prologue! Thanks_

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_He looked blankly at the hand for a moment. One, that not half an hour ago, had been poised at his throat to kill him. He didn't. Staring at it a moment longer, Victor let instinct take over with a flicker of a smirk crossing his dark features._

_He grabbed James' hand and pulled himself onto the top surface that hadn't been destroyed, boots crunching the debris under him. Victor stepped passed him but then turned around. He could have pulled himself up without James' help. He'd been doing it for a long time now. It _was_ different now though, something had changed that he didn't claw himself back up and shove him. He realized suddenly that he'd finally let go of his grudge, that his brother betrayed him to run off with some frail broad._

_Why was it gone?_

_It had ended, he thought, in that Jimmy couldn't do it. Even with the over powering smell of their animalistic rage, rage he had every intention in. Even in the worst kind of anger... Jimmy couldn't do it. Knew they were still brothers and he couldn't kill Victor, because they were blood._

_They stared at each other for another moment, judging what the other was thinking. Each reading into the other's expression and body language on a basic level they had grown so accustomed to doing over the centuries._

"_This doesn't change anything between us Victor…We're _**_done_**_." _

_He looked at his brother, staring at him, questioning him at first. The words he usually left unsaid saying themselves._

"_We can never be _**_done_**_, Jimmy. _**_We're Brothers._**_ Brothers look out for each other." _

_The obvious statement hung in the air and made both think harder. Victor could be good with words when he wanted to be. It was just a matter of when he needed to, because he didn't. But Jimmy needed a good reminder in how things were, and he needed to keep it in his head._

_Suddenly the platform they were on disappeared. His words started to echo in a sudden blackness as it all slid away, melting and twisting away into the anger and pain that had been so long hidden. It all attacked him, clawing into him, putting pressure over his entire body... and then suddenly it was melting into nothing just like Jimmy's memories._

Victor started heavily, eyes snapping open as he scanned the room over, his sharp and slightly ragged breathing filled the stale silence. His piercing eyes took in his dingy surroundings as his 'dream' faded. He could still feel it, the pressure all over him, the pain he didn't allow to fuck with him.

But soon enough his senses brought him back to the small room and the pressure eased. He stared around again. Some dreams were too real to shove away the moment he was awake. Even for him, they lingered. And then sometimes you got up and ignored that very same thing.

Standing up, Victor looked around for a clock...

Three in the morning.

The time didn't surprise him. He never slept long, not only did he not need it, even in the woods thing interrupted him. It'd been years since he probably got a full night's sleep.

He continued his path out of his bedroom, trying to focus on everything around him. He couldn't ignore the feeling though, the crawling rage that pushed through him. The rage that set his veins on fire with the urge to act, to kill, something to fill the animal's urges.

His all too human mind looked for a real diversion, one from the memories unwanted dreams brought to him. His urges was his usual outlet. But there was nothing for him to do. He was going to need to make some calls to that agent bastard he paid too much money to just to get some work.

He looked at the screen door leading out of the beaten up trailer. But there was nothing out there and he was still in New York. Should have just headed back to Canada, this side place of his had gone to hell.

He turned away from the screen, back to the sitting room. His gaze rested on the old beaten up television in the corner while a scowl forced itself on his face. He couldn't believe he was going to have to resort to that.

The television was severely out of use and outdated. It didn't bother him much. That was how he was, outdated. He belonged to another time, but that was another story.

So he gave in and watched the stupid television. The last of his cuts had stitched themselves back together in his sleep. He was glad he had decided to sleep it off. His slower healing factor had always been a source of aggravation to him. Jimmy and he had always wondered if he would not live as long because it was slower.

They doubted it; neither had aged in centuries as far as their senses could tell. The thought rarely ever crossed his mind. Certainly not now. Death was something so impossible to him that it never entered his mind as a normal human or even mutant's might. He was better than them, all of them.

His large form slumped on the tattered couch watching two guys go at it in an old war movie. They had always gotten a kick out of them. Never realistic of what the wars had been about or how they were.

Especially now as things were all high tech and all these damn graphics destroyed it. Bringing things to life! Some things just needed to die. The movie turned to a fake bloody battle field. He scoffed he wished it had been nearly that pretty. Or maybe he didn't. He couldn't be sure anymore. The blood didn't look real enough for him though.

He would change the channel, but that was the only thing ever on his television, old war movies or annoying television ads. He got the news too, but why bother with it? It would all change in a few years anyways. Everything today was about buying crap. He didn't pay it any mind. He never had and didn't care to start. Everything would change completely in the next centuries anyways. It always did.

He heard his stomach rumble and he rolled off the couch. His shoulder muscles finally clicked back into place, even after sleeping. Runt still hit hard when Victor pushed his buttons.

"Damn," He growled, a hit of annoyance in his voice, while he busied himself with searching his fridge for anything edible. As usual there wasn't much but dry cereal, which tasted full of preservatives and processed sugar. He preferred old hunting, even though they had grocery stores now with that 'organic' food. Bullshit. There were still too many preservatives in the stuff and it tasted awful.

He looked around blearily at his surroundings. He was still itchy from his dream and it was annoying him. Victor didn't linger. Yet he couldn't shake the feelings clutching weight on his shoulders.

Victor growled to his empty surroundings before walking to his screen door, letting it slam behind him. His eyes were set on the forest and he ran to it, welcoming the distraction it served.

He was tired of thinking, of caring about what Jimmy had done to him. Abandoning him, betraying him, and then just completely forgetting everything the two had been through. Forgetting brotherhood. He was sick of _feeling_ it, of all feelings, and just needed an escape.

That was the good thing about their mutation though. They were always animals. That never changed. That could never be lost or forgotten. It was them. Jimmy fought it…he embraced it. He didn't pretend he was or could be something other than what he was. Why should he? It made him better, stronger, and it let him forget in ways nobody could, not even his good for nothing brother.

...

Logan tore the last of the droids in the danger room, the pieces falling around him to the ground. His blood was still searing in his veins though. The hell was wrong with that guy? He had picked a fight, had some motive that went unknown, unless it was just to fight which he didn't put past the guy. But then to just leave? Not finish their fight and whatever sick joy he got out of it. They both knew that neither could kill the other, so what was the point?

Logan wasn't sure why he was still thinking on it. He was a psychopath, easy answer. But it bothered him, and he couldn't figure out why he hated Sabertooth so bad. It was just something in his gut that told him to attack him, to tear him into tiny little pieces and burn them. Something that lit his insides on fire every time, he couldn't help it.

That wasn't what Logan was though... it wasn't what he did.

He shook his head from his angry thoughts as Ororo walked in.

"The team is going to need the Danger Room soon, Logan."

"I figured," He said, straightening his jacket as he reached in it for a cigar. He looked over at Ororo, who was pressing her lips together, but saying nothing.

He'd started past her, to clear out before he got roped into helping with it today, but Ororo stopped him with an outstretched hand.

"Is something wrong Logan?"

"No," He grunted automatically, pulling his shoulder away from her hand to continue to the door as he searched in a pocket for his lighter. Why was she bothering him with this touchy feely crap all the time? He was fine, and if he wasn't, he'd get fine. That's what he did.

"Logan," She continued and he stopped at the door to raise an eyebrow at her. She sighed and he finally got ahold of the lighter, flicking it he raised it to his cigar and lit it. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," He repeated, waiting a moment longer until she seemed to give up and he took that as his step out. Always with the questions...

Was he alright, yeah, obviously... or not so obvious. He didn't honestly know, just thinking to himself. Sometimes he thought he was, but he didn't know anything about himself, he assumed his name was Logan. From the dog tags no less. He assumed to hate his enemies, he assumed to like certain things. He would never know. It was all gone.

Logan made his way through the crowded hallways, filled with students that just got released from whatever class, and towards the back doors. The deep breath of fresh air as he hit the steps took a bit of the tension in his shoulders out, and he held his cigar away from his mouth for a moment.

Why was this coming back up? He thought he got rid of all these doubts after Alkali Lake. When he was faced with a choice. That he could just leave his demons in the past and not care about who he had been. That he was a different person now.

What was doing this though... maybe it didn't matter why. It rarely did for him. It was the act that meant more for Logan and the simple facts were that he couldn't.

He wanted the truth. A nagging feeling in him wanted the truth. He wanted to know why he liked motorcycles, or running in the cold mornings, who he had known, where his stupid jacket had come from and why he was so attached to it. He wanted to know what he had done, who he had been, good or bad, even his real name would suffice.

He just wanted the truth, whatever it may be.

He couldn't have it though. Any telepaths he trusted were dead. He had drowned the only connection to his past in Alkali Lake and there was nowhere for him to start, nothing to find.

So he found himself stepping off the porch and gaining speed as he started into the forest. Running into it and through the trees. Running so he could just flamin' forget about his inability to remember all these things. Running to forget that he could never seem to remember, no matter how badly he wanted it.


	4. Lost Taunting

The woods outside of Victor's quick stop trailer were far gone and he kept running. He'd kept running through the country side, through tree after tree meeting roads and crossing them without a hesitation in his rhythmic system.

The fresh air filtered in and out of his lungs as he pushed himself harder and harder for no reason other than to see how far he could push his limits. It was just the exhilaration of the run, of chasing things. Even if there was nothing in particular he was chasing except leaving the shadows from the past where the belonged.

His thoughts flew from his mind as the world flew soundlessly past him. It was refreshing, the closest to peace he'd ever get. That feeling was soon swiped away as he registered an all too familiar scent. A low growl crawled up from deep within hi chest and he dug his feet into the ground, coming to a swift stop that jerked the rest of him with the lost momentum.

His stance shifted to alert and his senses reached out to affirm the smell. Sure enough he could hear his good for nothing brother not even a mile away.

He had heard James' footsteps running as his had been, but now they were stopped just as still and silent as Victor's. That, of course. meant he knew Victor was there same as he did James.

It didn't surprise him. Neither was stupid enough not to recognize the other's scent even if the meaning of it had blurred lines.

He moved ever so quietly closer to the smell and suddenly realized that the plan he had concocted earlier last night might actually have to go on now.

Victor wasn't sure whether that was good or not. He knew he didn't like being unprepared though. He also knew that he wasn't going to get many other chances like this. What were the damn odds that both of them would be in the same forest running?

It saved him time, Victor mused for a moment as he stalked closer, now he didn't have to track the runt down. At least he'd gotten some rest and healed up completely. His senses were sharp from his run and his mind was on the slippery edge where he liked it.

He could see James through the trees now. He moved closer, making no noise on the ground despite his size. Victor's dark eyes flashed with looks only his brother would be able to depict, and there was almost a satisfaction that he couldn't read them anymore if Victor did let them show.  
"I know yer there," Jimmy yelled out. He scowled, but didn't move. The runt didn't know where he was directly though, did he? No, the winds were strong today and Victor was down of it. The runt wouldn't get away so easily from this, no, Victor was going to give him real hell. He hadn't planned to do it at this moment, but if it was supposed to happen, who was he to argue with fate?

Victor was probably being less than direct, but he didn't really pay any attention to it. He had too many things to worry about to care. Too many pieces to go over, he did have the capacity to forward thing when he wanted to, Victor just preferred undiluted actions, all thoughts aside.

Some cases he had no choice though, and if getting his way with the runt took thinking, then that was what Victor did to win.

That was the point of this, to win. Or to get at least something that he wanted out of Jimmy after he screwed him over, again. For a moment, his mind strangely flickered back to the program on the news the night before. The news clip he'd seen. The strange coincidence in it. One that might and probably had nothing to do with either of them, yet raised his hackles. It was instinct, unfounded in all respects, but his instincts rarely lied to him.

He couldn't let himself believe that though. He wouldn't believe it. He was just overreacting and jumping to an unrealistic conclusion because of his new decision. It was just his weaker side trying to back out of things.

Besides, this wasn't about what he'd seen. He was just tired of Jimmy's problems. He had done some thinking and some serious counting. He'd decided before he'd even gone to sleep that he was going to try a new avenue. He would just play with Jimmy's mind. Who was better fit than a brother?

So if James wouldn't take the intuitive to remember, then Victor would do it for him. Like he always had to. The news clip had nothing to do with it. It had only made Victor more motivated. So he told himself he was here for other reasons. That this was all pointless, this was just Jimmy being lazy. That was his '_reason.' _Nothing else, just that.

If his brother wouldn't push himself, than Victor would. Victor always pushed him. Pushed him to keep running from the mob of angry townsfolk, pushed him with challenges through the wars… pushed him away with an animal.

So he was pushing one more time. Just another thing to do keep his runt brother in check. That _was_ his job.

Victor was tired anyways. Tired of revenge, or forgotten memories. Tired of excuses. All his pent up anger, all of it had steamed for so long that it finally died. Leaving in its wake an emptiness he didn't like and readily ignored. His own ironic words kept repeating themselves in his head for what had seemed eternity already.

'_Brother's look out for each other.'_

He was tired of running from it all, tired of revenge, tired of fighting a useless battles he couldn't be pleased with in his usual way. He was tired of letting James be lazy and all that made a damn good excuse for him too.

Deeper down, he knew that all the excuses in the world wouldn't add up to his own promises. James may not stick to his word, but goddamn it, Victor Creed did. It wasn't like he wanted to. He didn't like it, he hid from it most times. He didn't want to feel anything towards the traitorous whelp, so what if Stryker had tried to get at James? Why should Victor be bothered by it? Victor had told himself he wasn't. So why was he here, trying to cover James' ass one more time? He knew why, they were brothers, and like he said, brothers **had** to look out for each other. They'd made a pact and Victor would stick to it.

"Come outta there!"

With Jim's hateful snarls, Victor closed his eyes for a brief second, his mouth lifting into a tired frown and he let out a sigh. The normal 'here we go again' raced through his mind. Even before Jimmy forgot, that was what he thought. Here they went again. Like in the barn so many years ago when he could hear his brother's rage filled roar echo his name and he knew it was time to fight again.

The preparation, anticipated, but also not. It was both and he didn't like being indecisive, he liked everything one way and nothing held him back from the direction he'd chosen once he'd decided. Which was why he liked it. So now, here they went one more time. Again at something he could never figure out a reason for, except anger.

But anger had always sufficed for him.

He opened his eyes and shifted from foot to foot quietly, circling around James, moving when James moved. He didn't want to be seen until he had him good and set up.

"Come get me then," He called, moving again as James turned quickly towards where he'd spoken.

"What are you doin' here?"

"Thought I'd come play with your little X-Men," He lied, watching the rage building through the few trees between them, moving again as James started to lung around trees. Victor kept an equal distance, and finally the runt let out a frustrated growl, realizing the game no doubt, since he stopped.

"I'm real sick of yer attitude Jimmy," He taunted, staying still as James went still, trying to sniff him out more, but Victor was still downwind and all he'd get was that Victor was here, not where. Which was good, as unexpected a turn of events as it was, he wasn't here to fight him, just yet, he was here to make him think.

He knew his brother inside and out, he knew him better than James knew himself. He always had. So this should be easy.

_Should_… James was known to be a stubborn ass. But he could be more so.

"The hell does that mean?" Was all James said as his growls grew louder and louder to Victor's sensitive ears. Victor sneered a bit, did he realize the name, or did he think Victor was just playing games with his head? Knowing his little sob stories with his memories. Which Victor was doing… just a truthful kind of messing with his head.

Besides, James deserved it. James ignored the facts just because he didn't like them. Always had, he didn't like what life had dealt him so he thought forgetting would solve everything. He'd agreed to it, said let's do it. Even if he'd backed out, he still had. It was something Victor could never forget.

Even if James was forced to forget afterwards, he could have remembered by now. He just didn't _want_ to.

Well, Victor had ways of _making_ people do things they didn't want to do. True, he had let that fact slide for a few decades, but in light of new events it seemed James' pout time was up. It was time for him to grow up.

"Stop bein' so goddamned lazy Jimmy," He called again, moving forward. He was upwind now and he knew Jimmy would be able to get his exact location. But Victor was still circling him, matching his movements. He was never as quick as Victor, and even if he was, Victor certainly was now.

"Stop callin' me that."

Victor laughed coldly once, loud enough for James to hear. He liked seeing him frustrated. It let him know he could still push his brother's buttons. But again the lack of memories gave him a strange satisfaction, that _he_ could push James' buttons when James couldn't push Victor's.

"Stop callin' you what… _Jimmy_?" He questioned, with sarcasm that only he could muster. He'd always been good at taunting people, it just took watching prey and finding their soft spots. Then hold it in their faces and down their throats.

James growl could be heard even louder through the trees as they continued their slow circling of one another. But finally he stopped with trying to counter questions. Good, because he was going to lose the game.

"That ain't my name."

Victor huffed, his chest rumbling in annoyance with his brother's sudden and infuriating denial.

"You can call yerself whatever you like, Runt. It don't make any of it true. If I went around sayin' I was president, that wouldn't mean I'm suddenly in charge of the country," His dark voice chuckled at the truth behind his jesting. Because it was always his way of thinking, that he could be whatever he _wanted_, when there was no escaping what they were... nothing made it leave. Why should it? It made them strong.

"My name _is _Logan."

His eyes snapped to where he could see his brother's face, in the small patch of woods. He leapt forward, but stopped himself from getting into Jimmy's vision, even as his eyes filled with hatred and a snarl twisted his features.

"You were never yer father's son," He snapped, as James eyebrows went up. A growl lingered in his chest and he made it louder to pound out the other unwelcome things there.

James sniffed…once…twice. Victor knew it was to see if he was tricking him. He wasn't. Though his outburst of anger had given him an unexpected opportunity and like all opportunities, he took it for himself.

"I always thought it was interesting that you picked _that_ name," He continued, voice back under his control. "I guess you thought you could get away from the likes of…_us_; of yerself." He said coyly. His hints danced just outside of 'Logan's' reach of memory and he knew it would drive the smaller feral crazy.

Good. Maybe it would make him try harder.

It was truth. Why else would he call himself Logan and not James? He wanted to pretend he wasn't an animal like Victor. Like their father. James could pretend and forget all he wanted, but when it came down to facts, James was just one of them.

An animal; or monster or devil, it was all just words for their nature. No sense in running around the subject like James, he was better than that. He was stronger for it! Right from the start... the animal got rid of things that were impossible to do otherwise.

His eyes closed as he stepped further into the shadows as James edged closer. His tongue traced unconsciously over the gums where scars should have been and his mood darkened considerably.

Victor looked back at James, banishing the thoughts of cold basements, pliers, and dead rabbits.

He had a job to do.

"Like I've _always _said, Jimmy. Yer just like me. You just don't know it yet," He smirked, fangs jutting over his bottom lip, as James snarled at his words.

Victor knew James couldn't deny the familiarity of the things he was intentionally saying. He was sure his baby brother wasn't used to it. Not used to the familiarity of Victor's words. Victor had always stayed away from it. He stayed away from it because he didn't want to think about it. Familiarity hurt and the animal reared away from pain.

"What are you talkin' about Creed?" James snapped, the cautious tone creeping into his voice. Victor could smell the building frustration. Perfect.

"Can' remember?" He taunted once again smelling the rage starting to creep into his brother. "Oh, that's right. You don't _want _to know. I almost forgot."

That was almost too much for James as Victor received the loudest snarl yet and he couldn't help the sneering smirk, knowing he was just grating those nerves of Jimmy's.

"You don't know what yer talkin' about," His brother snarled once more, but Victor wasn't letting it go at that. Trying to make excuses again, was he? Well Victor wasn't backing down. Not this time. It was time James faced up to the facts and stopped crying.

"Don't I? All this sounds_ awfully_ familiar, doesn't it… _James_."

"I said, **_stop_** callin' me that!" He heard the sound of James' grounded anger flooding his words, before he felt his brother's body weight throwing him onto the ground. Before he could even react, he was thrown into a tree across from the little clearing he was now in and where Jimmy had just been circling.

His brother launched himself at him again, but as his claws plunge down, the smell of confusion surged into his scent. Victor's lip raised into a snarling smirk, a dark twinkle in his eyes as his vicious fangs raised over his bottom lip.

He watched on smugly as his brother's eyes fought with what he was seeing and most likely what his mind was telling him.

Good, the intended effect, and people thought him stupid. He just acted mindless at times,_ made_ them underestimate him and then let them see why just before he killed them.

Victor stayed still as his brother looked at the changes in him. His tangled unkempt hair was gone, cut close to his head, his rags and furs replaced with stolen clothes and his usual black overcoat. The tags that were always his were hanging around his neck, they'd never left, but the silver beaded chain could be seen now leading to his black shirt where the rest of it disappeared.

Victor knew that would give him a little head trip. He was so used to seeing the raging Sabertooth, that when he saw Victor like he used to be he had to step back. Had to admit the familiarity of what he was seeing.

He smirked as he reached up and grabbed his wrist, holding tight as he squeezed, claws lengthening into the skin. His eyes danced playfully with knowledge and James kept trying to get his wrist free, like when he was a kid and Victor told him his crazy ideas where done.

_"Victor, if we just..." _

_Victor stopped in his tracks, whirling around to face James, his anger flaring with the pestering kid._

_"I _**_said_**_, _enough,"_ He said grabbing his wrist. James struggled to get away, but he wasn't grown enough to get away from Victor's vice like grip. He struggled once more and then stopped staring into Victor's colder eyes. James' blue eyes looked up intently at him and Victor let his wrist go, confident that he got his attention. _

_"I want to go home Victor." _

_Victor's gaze softened as the small kid looked away and to the ground. Victor knew James already knew that wasn't an option. They'd discussed this before._

_"I told you already, we can't go back." _

_There was silence and Victor nodded, happy with his talk, as he turned around and kept walking, listening carefully for the follow of footsteps._

_Sure enough James' unsure footing was heard on the loose dirt and Victor grinned to himself. James could be smart if he wanted to. It was just about getting him to understand things. They'd make good brothers._

Victor looked scornfully at the older version of his brother. He was just as stupid as back then, always wanting what he could never get and not getting any smarter about it. Not really understanding.

"Listen Runt. You don't remember anything for one reason," He said, voice loud but calm. James stopped struggling and Victor let his hand go, just like he was a kid again. He could see the intent that rose to James face, as if the light bulb was finally going off.

"You don't remember, cause you don't want too," He mocked with a smile as his brother lunged at him again, and he smelled of anger from thinking he was duped. He was just too stupid to realize the truth. Victor was thrown into a tree, but he leapt up with ease, circling James again, James mimicking his movements.

This part he wasn't so sure of..

"Yer not stupid Jimmy. Don't tell me you can't see the resemblances."

James stopped, looking at him with those cautious eyes, surely trying to tell himself to ignore Victor's comments and brush them off, but the other part of him told him that Victor was saying them for a reason. If James didn't want to listen, Victor would just make him think until he **did** listen.

"What's that supposed to mean?" James snarled low in his chest and Victor grinned, showing his fangs once again.

"Now how am I supposed to teach you a lesson if I just tell you the answers?" He smirked, his head tilting with his brother's expression. James lunged and Victor could only get half way out of the way before his brother had him against another tree, his claws stabbing him in the chest. He snarled, making no more noise than that, as his face twisted in pain.

"Speak Creed," James snapped. His eyes trying to figure out Victor's secret.

"And what are you gonna do if I don't. Eh?" He grunted through the pain. "Slash me some more? I'll heal. _We_ always heal Jimmy," Victor said and the empathized 'we' did its job. He laughed viciously, grabbing James' hand and twisting it out of his chest, trying to not show the pain it caused him.

Victor stared at his brother for a brief second to gage his reaction, before throwing him as hard as he could through a tree and took off further into the forest.

He cold grin drew on his face. Let Jimmy chew on that for a while.

_Author's Note- _Alright, so I was going to have them meet up next as Victor stalking him to execute his plan, but two of my reviewers had the idea of them meeting up in the forest and I loved it. Originally them entering the woods was just to show that they are very similar in lots of ways but it turned into this instead. I also think Victor did a bit too much thinking for him in this chapter... but that's just how it's gonna have to be. Thanks for Reading!


	5. Lost Reliving

Author's Note- Thank you Peppymint for the review! To everyone else still following as well. This one was fun.

* * *

One eyebrow was arched up high on his forehead and he was trying to resist his eyes from twitching downward into a glare. Despite any efforts, his face clearly told what he was thinking. No. No, and definitely no. He wasn't even sure why she would ask him. Of all the people in this stupid mansion, she asked him. He didn't even like teaching these kids how to defend themselves or the other classes he occasionally got roped into, much less anything like she was talking about.

"Oh come Logan. You do fine with the children, and Hank had to rush back to Washington for the rest of the week. Just follow the notes and you'll be fine."

Ororo's pleads with him didn't change his expression except his arched eyebrow rose even further.

"There's no way in hell, Ro," He said evenly, arms crossed against his chest and growing tighter as he attempted to keep his resolve with this woman. It didn't help that history happened to be a touchy subject for him. Weren't these people all about being accepting? Maybe recent events... the other day, they were just getting to him. That didn't mean he wanted to do it any more than he had a second ago. The answer stayed the same.

"You hardly will have to do anything. Just follow the notes and put in the movie…." She continued. "Please," She begged.

"No," He grunted.

...

He looked at the notes in front of him once again and cursed mentally. How did he get himself into these things?

"So…" He scanned the room again and the students were looking at him, varied levels of boredom written on their faces. Half-pint seemed to be the only one paying any attention, what a surprise, Kitty seemed to be the only one to do schoolwork with any amount of excitement. Personally he sided with the other kids.

"Looks like yer learnin' about the invasion of Normandy, D-Day and…." He looked up from his notes again and at the class he was supposedly subbing for. Some of the mixed boredom had turned into various amounts of amusements, and Rogue was even laughing, trying to hide it behind her gloves.

He groaned internally and threw the notes down, trying not to show his frustration. He didn't even like talking to people, much less teaching them anything. He could do the gym crap, he could do the training and the fixing this place up... but he did **_not_** teach this subject crap.

"Just watch yer stupid movie," He grumbled under his voice to the class full of teenagers, bending down to put the movie in, pressing the play button. He scowled to himself and sat down in the furball's chair(stank of him too), setting his feet up on her desk and the papers he was supposed to read to a bunch of kids who weren't paying attention anyways.

The screen lit up, useless credits spilling over it. He liked it more that way for some reason. He thought credits belong in the front of movies unlike at the end. He wasn't sure why. Never was, it just seemed the proper place for them.

Logan ignored the class, pulling up a search engine on the computer set to the side of the desk. He wasn't very good with the stupid technology, but Rogue had insisted that he learn how to look for stuff on the internet. He hadn't had peace until he'd agreed to it. He was sort of grateful right now, though he would never tell _her_ that.

He pulled up some website, and clicked on the nickname section. He went through the sections and his sharp eyes scanned over them until he got to the J's. He landed on Jimmy and looked to the right to see what names it could stand for and if it was what he had thought.

Jim and James showed up, the obvious ones, not something that might be able to surprise him. That was what he was afraid of. He shut out the engine with some effort, but managed to turn the thing off. He leaned back in the chair; a disgruntled feeling settling in his stomach.

James.

It wouldn't bother him if it was just Sabertooth making up some nickname to try to mess with his head and throw the fight. What bothered him was that was what Stryker had said. Stryker had called him James too.

Two different people called him the same name or a variation of it? It wasn't even like they could know each other or Sabertooth could be working for Stryker. Stryker and Sabertooth were not two people who would know each other. He just didn't like it and it made him question things he didn't want to be questioning anymore.

He looked over the classroom for a distraction and they looked bored as the dull and monotone voice started talking about useless stats on World War Two. It started with the planning of the invasion and a bunch of guys standing around a table in uniforms, a different voice, though you'd never know with the way he drawled on the same, was explaining more information about going through the bay. Logan was shocked any of these kids were still awake.

For some reason he thought all the scenes looked so fake.

The movie seemed to drag on as it showed soldiers preparing in fields; training, packing supplies, traps the German's were putting around beaches and various maps of the landing sight. Then a solemn voice came on and the screen went black.

The words D-Day pulled up onto the blank screen and then faded into soldiers who were riding to a beach in open boats, then they were jumping into the water and he could suddenly feel the cold water hitting his legs through BDU's, as if he were there.

He could almost see in his mind, the sand flying along with smoke and mixing in with the noises that were coming from the television screen. Could practically hear the deathly screams as men were shot down before even touching the ground. He could hear them echo in his head and they weren't coming from the television.

Suddenly Logan's head burst into chaos as a buzzing erupted from each corner of his mind, lighting a fire in his head. The scents around the room and mansion disappeared, everything blurring suddenly as he gripped the desk. Instinct said to attack. The animal within him roared and the pain seemed to strengthen its resolve.

Then, he smelled something…sea salt….

_The sound of water slapping against metal echoed through the erie, silent halls as he laid his head against the wall, he didn't have anything against ships, but they weren't his favorite transportation. They weren't his least favorite either._

_Something, someone's elbow nudged him in the ribs and he lifted an eyelid lazily to see the captain coming in._

_He bit down harder on the cigar in his mouth and unlike the other soldiers around him, his gun was set on the bed next to him and the man next to him was in the same position. He glanced over to him, and he seemed normal there. Like he should be there, like it was natural._

_There was an onslaught on his ears as a whistle blew and commands of 'get ready' were shouted out. Still the two didn't move, finding the routines boring and irrelevant. They both knew their casualness with the upcoming battle was putting their fellow soldiers on guard, but they didn't care. They never did, this was just old hat._

_"Alright soldiers. Check through procedure again."_

_The two men didn't make a move to follow the orders. The only movement from them was the constant tap of fingers on metal coming from the man next to him. The sound was rhythmic, but it also assaulted his eardrums in a way he was somehow used to. _

_The captain's look from across the room told him full well what he thought. He knew he didn't care too. That wasn't really what was on his mind, nothing really was. This was just the cool before the storm for him and he was already in a bad mood after what happened with the other troops in training thanks to..._

_"Men. I meant _**_everyone_**_." _

_He closed his eyes not in the mood for trouble. He could hear the man next to him sitting up. He didn't have to look to know there was a grin on his face. He just somehow knew it was there, always was. He liked to mess with soldiers and captains alike. It was all in good fun for him. But he could at least _try_ to fit in, once wouldn't kill him._

_"Is that so? Maybe we ain't apart of…._**_everyone_**_. Captain." _

_The captain was sure to be angry, though fearful was probably smarter as he heard the tapping stop. He didn't even open his eyes. He knew the man would taunt the soldiers anyways. He had too much fun not too. At least one of them could have fun, not that he was entirely sure he should be having fun at time like these._

_Everyone here had apprehensions of them. They were odd, just showing up without signing up for the military. The only thing they said was that they were Canadians and that was all. The officials didn't question them. They needed men to get killed fighting, no questions asked. That's how all the wars were. But he had to go messing with that kid in training..._

_He ignored the smell of fear that was mingling in with the useless banter that carried on for a while before figuring he had scared them enough. He rolled his eyes and stood up looking at his..._

A burst of pain had him snarling. The classroom came to him in a flash of too bright of colors for it to be normal, the sound of the gears turning in the dvd player were louder than they should be even for him. Then everything was spiraling away from him again.

_The boat approached land and he looked back at one of the soldiers. He looked scared and shocked, staring back at him. He bit down on his cigar and checked his gun, getting ready for the landing as he looked away._

_The sound of gun shots echoed through the sandy beaches as they barreled their way through it towards the bunkers. Their army issue cargo pants were soaked through-ally with sea water, but it didn't slow them down any._

_ Even as they trudged through the mud and sunk in wet sand, they went quicker than most. The bullets piercing their skin weren't enough to bother them. It stung and they kept going. They just headed for their target and that ominous sense of freedom was around them. The one that scared him every time they were in these situations. _

_They weren't the first to the bunkers, but they were the only ones still alive. Their guns were mostly ignored as their built in weapons did the job of pulling snipers out of the bunker and away from their machine guns. He heard the automatic firing rapidly without hesitation before he sent a worried glance to…_

Another sharp, hot shooting pain tore through his thoughts, searing behind it. A rough gasp escaped his lips as senses and sight came back to him in a painful rush. Not over sensitive this time... normal, or, his normal.

He saw the students, looking like they had seen ghosts and Rogue was standing not far from him. She was hovering over him, but ready on her feet to leapt back.

He was also, as he now realized, crouched on the floor, claws were out. Not to mention Furball's desk seemed to have been cut in three uneven parts and the computer was officially scrap. He looked around as his mind struggled to catch up with what he was taking in.

"Logan?"

He looked at Rogue, whose voice was shaky as she stared at him, smelling a little relived. He looked from her face to the others and the smell of fear was strong in the room. He stood up, re-adjusting his jacket and looked at the movie credits as bell rang.

He stormed out of the classroom, not stopping until he had reached the front door, ignoring Rogue's calls. He felt a blast of fresh damp air attack his senses and it was the first breath of someone drowning.

He stumbled down the few steps and shook his head, gripping onto the railing. His other hand went to his head and he looked at the trees around him.

What the hell was happening to him?


	6. Lost Worries

Author's note- Has it really been a month since I updated! Time fly's... anyways, here's the next chapter! Thanks for Reading!

* * *

Victor felt a growl raise deep within his chest as his clawed hands tapped on the computer keys. He was getting aggravated because of course he barely knew how to work these blasted thing. It wasn't that he was stupid, he had claws and they didn't really help with these damn little keys.

That and he'd never really needed these things, maybe he was old fashioned, of maybe he wasn't human enough for them. But as long as he could call people and be there to collect his money, the transaction part of his job went fine. Unless he had to chase an employee down... but those were just added perks.

Victor didn't have much choice in this though, well he could choice to not care, but that wasn't going to work for him right now.

Jimmy had better appreciate this. He knew he was probably screwing himself. Getting into more trouble than he wanted to. But he knew he had to do it. It was instinct, and Victor Creed never ignored instinct.

He'd been rather pleased after a quickly pulled together job, waiting in a dive bar to collect his cash from the guy who hired him. But as Victor had been drinking his beer, getting bored with watching the few frails in the place, the news had caught his attention and his week was ruined from there.

Instead of basking in his kill and enjoying the rest of the night in one way or another, he'd had to see that same news clip again. Except more detailed... more obvious, and Victor wasn't pleased. So he had to research this fucking crap now instead of enjoying himself or thinking of when next he'd ambush his brother and fuck with his head again.

The screen blinked with information finally... and it was **_not_** what he'd wanted to see.

With an ear splitting roar Victor's powerful arm swung into the computer. It flung across the room smashing into pieces, leaving a small indent in the wall.

He breathed heavily as he looked at the destroyed item. His breath was as sketchy as his mind was as it mingled in with the rage.

So it was true... his eyes scowered over the room, but nobody was unfortunate enough to be around him right now. So he lunged at the desk, the chair, the bookshelf, anything in his path that would satisfy his anger.

...

"What do you mean Mr. Logan?"

"Fight… just… do something," He growled, quickly making his way to the door.

"But…"

"Just run a god damn simulation!" He snapped loudly, opening the Danger Room door and making his way down the hall as fast as his feet could carry him.

Everything was blurring again. The walls were mixing together with the floor and fading noises, in and out came to him along with the intolerable, blasted noise.

He leaned against the wall, his hand moving to his stomach. He felt something wet and sticky. He knew it was blood even without being able to smell a damn thing. He slumped into the wall, shoulders keeping him held there. His other hand reached up to hold his head and his eyesight was blanking out again.

The pain in his head was making the animal stir and fight against the pain with unbound rage. He couldn't fight the rage, he couldn't even think. All there was was that blasted…

"The buzzing again?" He heard the faint, far away voice belonging to Ororo. His hearing seemed to come back in a rush with her prompt. The noises of the school were drastic to his sharpened senses as they came in and then out once more.

He felt a snarl slide through his chest easily. Ororo was annoyingly nosy sometimes. He knew she was just making sure he was alright, but he didn't want help. He had told her that.

"Logan, let…"

"I'm fine," He growled, cutting her off as he pushed his body weight off of the wall and let both his hands slide back into place at his side. He forced his steps to be straight as he walked to the elevator, but he had underestimated how dizzy he was. He wasn't sure if he was walking straight or stumbling anymore, but the whole world seemed to be spinning around faster.

"Logan. I told you last week to…"

"I said, I'm. **Fine**. Nothin' I can't take care of," He snapped, pushing away the ferocity crawling through the corners of his mind, replacing the buzzing. He could hear the little unbelieving 'hmph' in her throat.

He ignored it.

As soon as he made it to the elevator and the door closed him off from the rest of the mansion, he grabbed a hold of the silver bar lining the round tube. Logan breathed uneasily for a moment and then he lifted his shirt, finally able to see five gashes in his stomach which were from his last round with Sabertooth. That was nearly a week ago.

What scared the hell out of him was that as the buzzing died back into the background of his mind, the gashes started to heal themselves. They hadn't been there before the buzzing got louder. Why was it making his healing stop, reverse even? He didn't know, but in the week since it started, that hadn't happened.

In truth, he knew he wasn't okay. He knew something was wrong and it worried the fuck out of him. The buzzing was constant, always there, low and almost unreachable until certain moments in the day when it would shoot up and make him blank out.

All of them at random times. Watching a movie, thinking, smoking a cigar, even the kids fighting in the danger room set it off. Sometimes it was minutes, at times longer than that. Effecting his senses... hell he couldn't even move sometimes.

He had tried to tell himself that he was just off of his game because of what Creed had been saying, not to mention his make-over. He wouldn't have believed it was him if it hadn't been for his scent.

What ticked him off was he couldn't deny that some of what Creed was saying was familiar. It was like Creed knew exactly how to get to him and he didn't like that his enemy knew or pretended to know so much about him. Logan especially didn't like that it worked.

He wished he could just pretend this was all Creed's fault, but he couldn't. This was physical stuff, not just him being off his game. His healing powers were going whacky along with the rest of his senses and all these imagines...

He didn't know what was happening to him and he needed it to stop. He wasn't supposed to be able to have any of this happen to him.

So why was it?

...

Ororo looked after Logan more worried than ever.

She thought she had seen red. Her mind could have been making it up, but this was getting out of control and Logan wouldn't let anyone help him or even talk about it. He wouldn't even admit it was happening.

He had shredded Hank's desk in what the kids called a 'spazz attack'. Rogue said they were watching the D-Day video and he suddenly flipped out. Slashing and snarling at them all and shouting like he was in pain.

Rogue said he was grabbing his head, attacking anything that came within a ten foot radius of him. She had said she'd seen it before, in his nightmares.

Apparently it wasn't going away like Logan was pretending it was. Ororo was seriously worried and of course stubborn headed Logan wasn't letting her do anything for him.

She looked at where he'd disappeared into the elevator and sighed. Ororo turned and walked back to the danger room. The confused kids stood in groups and she could hear the rumors about Logan that had been flying around the mansion lately.

Everything from he was going crazy to he was dying and this was just the way people who could heal died. Kids could really blow things out of proportion...

But what if they weren't that out of proportion? That was the part that was worrying her the most.


	7. Lost Meaning

Author's Note- This one took awhile to edit, sorry for the wait. But I had a lot of old concepts in it and it's the second to last chapter I've got written up from years ago and I'm still trying to figure out all the details for the rest of the story here. I'm not entirely sure this chapter is the best, but it'll have to do! I just want to get it up for you all, so thanks for Reading!

Thanks to acetwolf94 who reviewed and definitely got me to get this chapter powered out!

* * *

Victor crouched on the sturdy oak branch looking down at the cliff he was currently lingering over. Nothing but a tree branch was between him from falling to the ground hundreds of feet below him.

He wasn't sure what he liked about this spot, but it reminded him of a place James and he had stopped at once. He was mad at James and vice versa. Something frivolous and unimportant. It was a part of Jimmy's whole 'I'm gonna be a snotty teenager' stage.

He wasn't sure why it made him think. Maybe it was because the air was so crisp and cold. He liked the cold and it helped to clear his head sometimes, when he wanted it to. Canada had always been cold. He grew up there and that was what felt natural. Worst places in the world were places like Vietnam. Hot and sticky, and it made him edgy. So it could be the cold, or the familiarity of trees that he liked. He didn't know what it was, but it did make him think, so here he was, thinking.

This whole thing was unnerving and he found himself looking over his shoulder everywhere he went. He had tried the whole coincidence thing and ignoring it. But after those files, well, there was no lying to himself about it. It wasn't anything he couldn't take care of, but it did unnerve him and it also meant he had to push James more.

He wasn't sure why he felt like James' needed to remember for this, he just did. Maybe Victor knew somewhere buried deep, James wouldn't trust him now. Wouldn't listen to a word he said because all he knew was unfounded hate towards Victor. There were _plenty_ of reasons to hate Victor anyways, but he didn't know them all. How could he get through the runt's head when he needed to if he didn't?

Whatever the reason, it felt instinctual, so he was going to continue doing it. Instinct was always right.

Another thing he wasn't sure about was the way to….

Abruptly he felt his body falling through the tree. His claws grew instantly, digging into the cliff's face, he managed to dig his claws in enough to make a catch and get stationary. He looked below him and then back at the tree above him.

He saw an evenly broken off branch. Just like it had been cut off, it was perfectly smooth and straight. He sniffed the air and felt disgruntled it was Jimmy's scent he found. Sure, the cut in the tree would make that the obvious choice, but he hadn't expected it. Hadn't heard him coming, and Victor was better than him, he should have.

He snarled in self-disgust and climbed up the cliff, flinging himself onto the top and looking instantly for his brother. He found him crouched low about twenty feet away with his claws extended.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what came next. The fight. James started to rush at him and he copied his movements. They clashed, both sets of clash slashing into the rival. He swiped at James only to be blocked by the other man's forearm and thrown off balance. He stumbled backwards for a moment before catching himself easily and turning to rush forward. His arm swung high and he made contact with the side of James' head.

The younger feral let out a rage filled roar and Victor felt James' claws dig deep into his side, two of the three claws slipping between his ribs and the other cutting one in half.

He felt himself double up with a howl of pain as James pulled them out and hit him in the stomach with his claws. He got up on one knee, one hand balancing himself on the ground and the other clinging to the side of his chest, where four of his ribs were broken in half and blood was gushing everywhere.

He'd heal.

James kicked him in the shoulder and he fell on his back. He let out a hiss of pain before standing back up trying to get his bearings. James was fighting for blood and he knew it. His bones hadn't started to heal yet and he couldn't really move the upper half of his body, his lower half was struggling to compensate.

He felt James ram him into the tree he had been occupying before James snuck up on him. How had he done that? Had Victor been so self absorbed that he couldn't even tell that his own brother was sneaking up on him? It must be because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he hadn't heard James come up to him. That was a problem he was going to have to fix. This was what happened with thinking, it was useless.

He was too comfortable.

"Alright Creed. Enough games. I want answers."

He felt his eyes slip close as the loss of blood made his blood pressure go up and his ears started ringing. James shook him again and he opened his eyes lazily. It made his side twitch oddly though, something else was probably broken down there.

Victor growled lowly at him, getting his other arm up to try to shove him off. But James had a damn good hold and he was having problems with his entire left side. He didn't like James winning, though, or even beating him for a moment, much less have him like this. Vulnerable. James pressed harder on his chest and he found it suddenly harder to breath.

_'He must be pressin' on both my fuckin' lungs,' _He scowled to himself, though he could feel his body starting to heal itself. Once again in his life he cursed his slower healing factor. He knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"Answers to what?" He asked tauntingly, his voice detached of the emotions he refused to feel.

"**_Don't_ **play with me Creed," his Brother's voice snapped and he might have laughed if he had enough energy to.

"Yeah. So you've said." His dull sarcasm apparently wasn't the answers James was looking for because he felt James claws slide sickingly back into his stomach, ripping his freshly healed skin with it and the smell of more blood stained the air.

"What do you want Creed?"

"What do I want? That's fuckin' original," He wasn't really in the mood for this to be perfectly honest and James was ticking him off. Being in the vulnerable side didn't help his mood any either. It was making him want to lash out at him, which would be a great option if he could move his arm.

"Talk. Creed."

"You want me to talk?" He asked, lip pulling up in a sneer. "Get offa me," He commanded, his eyes burning with malice. He wouldn't stand for his runt of a brother to have him pinned against a tree. If his stomach wasn't healing...

"Yer not in the position ta tell anyone anything."

"Sure I am. 'Cause if you don't get yer mitts off a me now, I ain't sayin' a thing and yer just gonna have ta keep on wonderin'," He snarled and felt a nasty grin etch his features as James backed off of him rather reluctantly.

Victor stood up shakily, and looked down at the skin above his ribs. He couldn't really tell if the bones were healed yet, because his skin had patched over again. It sure as hell didn't feel like it though. Probably weren't going to set right either.

Great. He was still vulnerable. James had listened though, good. That was his place. Far below Victor.

"Good," He snarled, looking up from his wounds and into his brother's brooding face.

"Why do you keep botherin' me?" James snarled back, equally as fierce.

"Hey. _I _didn't throw_ you_ off the damn cliff, runt," He grumbled. "Yer botherin' yerself," He growled.

"Bullshit. You keep findin' me, tryin' ta toy with me and I ain' amused anymore."

He barked out a laugh, but it sent a spasm of pain through his chest and he could tell his ribs weren't even close to done healing. _Poor_ Jimmy.

"Listen Runt. You want to know why I'm botherin' you? It's 'cause I'm sick of lettin' you be a lazy fuckin' bastard," He growled. He was also too busy trying to fix things with these creep to deal with Jimmy right now. "Think. Use that thing between yer ears, or what's left of it," He finished with a careless shrug. He was **not** in the mood to have twenty fuckin' questions with James.

"Bull-shit!" James snapped, lashing out at him with his claws. Victor lunged to the side, and his body protested the action as it sent pangs of pain coursing through his whole body, especially his chest. But he wasn't getting pinned again or looking like he wasn't already ready to throw him away.

"I thought you wanted me ta talk? What, don't like what yer hearing?" He asked, a nasty grin growing, which caused James to lunge at him again.

He let his claws extend and he thrust them into James' stomach as he went to land his claws in Victor's side, again. He clenched James' hand and threw him and his dangerous claws which were as much his own fault as James', away from him.

"Yer not this stupid," He commanded again, but he did remember now that his healing was catching up that he'd had to end his little games with James anyways. Only way to get through without more drama from what had been coming up. "Not enough ta not see the similarities anyways. Healing powers, claws, senses… the _rage_."

His brother interrupted his little speech and he smirk as James barreled into Victor and knocked them both onto the ground. Jimmy roared across the small plain area which had become their battle field. His claws were inches from Victor's face, and he didn't flinch or even blink.

It wasn't like this was his first time in this position, nor would it be his last, and he knew James' couldn't do it. That he didn't have it in him. He'd been madder than this before and still couldn't kill him. Second, he didn't think his ribs were strong enough yet to throw James off of him. He was fuckin' heavy and he might as well buy his body some time to heal.

"Nothin' ya don't know or can't find out," He replied lazily. It got to James, just like he knew it would. Again, knew him too well. Taunting him was as easy as fighting him.

**"**I.** _Don't_. _Remember_,"** He growled lowly. Victor could hear the resentment buried deep within his voice and it made him feel better in his own sick twisted way. James never had been very good at masking his emotions from Victor. Victor had practically raised the ungrateful brat.

"Who ya tryin' ta convince? Me… or _you_?" He felt James other set of claws dig back into his chest, while the others stayed gleaming over his face. He took a breath in, one because he needed air and two because he was starting to get frustrated.

_"I_ **can't**."

"Bull-shit. You could remember if you wanted to. Yer ju…"

He let out a snarl as James' claws dug their way deeper into his chest, but tried to keep his gaze focused and away from the pain. It did help that he _was_ getting to James. He could smell the aggravation rolling from his scent. Victor hoped he was going through a lot of pain right now, he deserved it.

James shook him so that his head bounced off the ground and he felt another surge of anger at the position he was in. It shot up like lighting and spread like poison through his mind and veins. No one, not even his brother could do that to him. He didn't like being caught off guard, he didn't like getting hurt, or being vulnerable, and he would **not** stand for any of it.

He let out an animalistic roar and pushed his brother off of him with strength that could only come from the rage within him and from a never surrendering animal. He lunged now and ignored the protest through his upper body, bowling them into the ground. He rolled off of James and turned to slash at his chest before grabbing him by the chest and throwing him up over his head and onto the ground.

He jumped over him, baring his teeth some, but some of his mind seemed to filter back in through the rage.

"You _could_ remember," He growled "Yer just too much of a fuckin' coward," He spat, jumping away from James as he roared and tried striking back at him. Victor lowered into a crouch, keeping even distance between them as he felt his side stitching up again. Something cracked in there, so apparently his ribs were starting to straighten back up.

They circled each other and Victor wouldn't let him gain any distance.

"Yer too lazy," Victor taunted.

James snarled and Victor could smell his hesitation. Victor knew he shouldn't have said all that, but his adrenaline was pumping and he was angry. Angrier than his last encounter or the ones before that.

"You don't know _anything_."

"Don't I? How would you know whether I do or not?" His every thought was one of killing, blood and pain. Everything he looked at made him more amped up to act upon those thoughts, and the man in front of him just made it even worse. He gave him reason to release his pent up anger, human reasons which were the reasons for the few times he ever had held back.

"Why do you keep botherin' me?" James snarled his original and still pointless question.

"Cause it's my fuckin' job," He snapped hastily, knowing full well he shouldn't have said it, but he was too angry to care. Any judgment or morals weren't in play.

"What are you talkin' about?" James said, cautiously. Victor's frustration was leading him to be impulsive. The annoyance and anger in James' voice somehow made him calmer though. Like James was getting what he deserved.

It was making his head clear up so he could say what he needed to say and not give any more information up. It took his reasons away and shaped them into something else. Something actually useful.

"Don't you wish you knew?" He said with a vindictive grin that exposed his sharp canines.

"I told you ta stop playin' games with me Creed," His brother's anger was tremendous and Victor felt satisftion that he was this way. He deserved to be the angry one for once. He deserved to have to be the one who had to be burdened with his own choices instead of Victor carrying it all.

"Maybe I'm not."

James let out another snarl and lunged at Victor. He grabbed his brother's form midair and tumbled on the ground and struggled to keep his claws away from his throat.

Well, he remembered _that_.

Victor got his feet up under the other feral, pushing with his chest, which he was pretty damn sure, made his healing ribs crack again. He growled as he threw the heavy mutant into his tree he'd been occupying.

James hit it with a sickening crack that made him smirk. Hopefully it hurt worse than anything he could remember, even then it wouldn't be enough of a payback. He wasn't sure anything would be.

"Use whatever excuse you want Jimmy. Ya can't deny yer memories forever," He spat out, he couldn't deny his true nature. He had a good hundred and fifty year streak... but this was what they were. He accepted it when it was useful to him, didn't he? Well Victor was going to _make_ him accept it all the other times too. That was what they were.


	8. Lost Ways

Author's Note- Okay! So I've bee working on this one after my work (I'm working aaallll the time!) and tried to get it out really quick, but originally I had a segment from James' perspective in it, but it got scrapped for now. It's a bit short without it, but it'll make the next chapter even better. I promise to get some Wolverine in the next one though!

Thanks to a guest, mw, peppymint, and Pheobe Arocis for getting me to pick it back up as much as I could over the last two weeks! Thank you so much for reading, and we're about half way through this(I think), and it's about to get interesting for James' memory problem!

* * *

Victor watched with heavy pants that Jimmy seemed to be staying down. Good. He should, before Victor had to give him worse. Not that he could in the same ways anymore, but it had been _Victor_ who had given him that.

This was done now, though, he had to have time to decide what to do with this other threa.t not waste time with his stubborn brother.

Before he could take too many steps, though, he heard a familiar roar and someone heavy sling onto his back. Victor's claws extend once more and he growled angrily, reaching around to grab ahold of James' shoulder as he plunged his claws under Victor's.

His ribs shouted in protest but he ignored them to throw him away and to the side onto the ground. Victor barred his teeth as James rolled into the dirt before jumping back up in a second.

James got back up in a second and lunged for him again. He just didn't know when to _quit_. Victor was starting to think he should just teach the Runt more of a lesosn. His claws dug deep into James' arm as the three gleaming claws came down from above him. Victor growled lowly in his chest and then threw James away. _One_ more time.

"I'm warin'… uh," He grunted as James threw him back through the air, his head bouncing against the tree he'd been sitting in.

Victor looked at it and as James rushed at him, he jumped up. James got just that much closer and he jumped up, grabbing the branch in one powerful arm and swung himself up over it into the tree. James stopped just short of the tree itself and Victor jumped down from it behind his brother and slashed his back, digging his claws in deeply.

James turned around with his own claws scraping them across Victor's chest, tearing more at his already worn out shirt.

Their fight continued along the edge of the cliff, each attack making contact, each hit barely doing something to slow them. They only shifted in advantage, gaining and then losing it as they battled back and forth. Their advantage constantly being stolen only made for angrier ferals.

Victor swung down, dodging James attack, but as he lunged forward again, James moved around. Metal claws pierced his skin again and Victor could feel his leg muscle ripping. He let out an unnerving howl as James drew his claws out. He was going to _pay_ for that one. They were going too long, too angry, and there was no winning between them. They were the only ones like each other, and this was pointless when there was another threat around.

Victor rounded on him again nevertheless, he wouldn't be the one to quit or back down. He would make James, and only then would they stop. But as he started to make for a lunge, James' shoulders jerked back and he paused motionless.

Victor could smell the pain coming off of him now, in fresh waves and suddenly his brother fell to the ground, kneeling. He hesitated in his attack, looking at him wondering if it was a trick. It could be, or it couldn't be, a trick wasn't much like Jimmy. But the change in events had his mind coming back over him more, pushing his feral state to a side. As much as Victor ever had it aside, that was.

"Jimmy?" He asked uncertain of what was going on as the younger feral let out another pained grunt, hand moving up to clutch at his head. It didn't seem like his brother could hear him though... or made any signs that he was taking anything in, in fact. This wasn't like anything else Victor knew, though... there was nothing to base it off of.

The only response he got was the growls and snarls coming from his brother as he tried to stand up and then fell back down. His hands grasped his head and he fell farther to the ground, his face touching it as his rasping breaths filled in the silence between his snarls.

Victor took a step back and felt the ground soften under his boots.

He looked over his shoulder and moved his footing forward. Of course, the cliff was **right** there. In the fighting, location hadn't mattered to him, only winning and teaching his sniveling little brother a lesson.

His attention returned to James, starting to move away from the cliff to round on his brother. He wasn't going to attack. They had both always known when it wasn't a fair fight, and until recent decades had always respected that. But he would watch, see what was going on with him...

It was all cut short, suddenly, as a another familiar sound, the click and release of a gun, the bang of it leaving the barrel fell over his ears. Victor let out a much more angry growl, the sound turning slightly defensive as he crouched for an attack. Only to realize the bullet had not been meant for him, but for his brother. He let out another grunt from the ground, and Victor responded in a roar, trying to locate who was attacking them.

Another click, another bang far off and Victor felt the sweet sting of a bullet ripping through his skin, then another and another. He flung his arms out to grab something as the force of the impact to his head caused him to stumble, his balance thrown off entirely.

With a defining roar he felt the earth give out from underneath him, the loose dirt not supporting his bulking body weight as he free fell to the ground fifty feet below him.


End file.
